The Anatomy of an Ann Voskamp Book Signing (because this is what you need on election day)

8 11 2016


Best-selling and much beloved author, Ann Voskamp, just completed a ten-day, seven-city book tour, during which she appeared at ten different bookstores to sign copies of her new book, The Broken Way. When she wasn’t being fully engaged with the hundreds who showed up for the signings, in her spare time (aka, the few remaining hours between catching flights or snagging a quick meal or squeezing in a brief sleep), she also sat for numerous interviews with every imaginable form of media, from major network TV to whatever is at the opposite end of the media spectrum.

This pace and publicity would exhaust even the most attention-starved extrovert. But Ann isn’t hungry for attention. And she’s an introvert. So, why does she do it?


It’s hard to know what to say about Ann. Not because I can’t think of a hundred beautiful things I’d love to say, but because I know she would prefer people not focus on her at all. She knows we are created to be worshipers, not to be worshiped. To be givers, not takers. I’ve said this before, but she’s like the character Lucia in Max Lucado’s, You Are Special. While all the other Wemmicks are preoccupied with earning and assigning dots (criticism) and stars (praises), the stickers won’t stick to Lucia. Because her worth is fully realized in her Maker.

You won’t find dots or stars on Ann.

We caught up with Ann at signing number nine out of ten — her third and final event in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. I knew she was exhausted. That she’d not only been pouring out for days, she’d also taken to heart the stories she’d been hearing all along the way — people who felt safe to share their brokenness because she’d trusted them with hers. People who wanted to say thank you for the life-changing ways God had met them in her words.

So, even in her bone-weariness, this is the anatomy of an Ann Voskamp book signing.


I don’t have to tell Ann my story of brokenness. She already knows it. Before either of us say a single word, she pulls me into this hug. There’s nothing shy about Ann’s hug. It’s like a wordless expression of all the compassion in her wide-open heart.



Then she recognizes Jacob. Look at her face. George and I look like the ones who’ve been wrung out for days. This is the face of un-self-conscious, genuine love.




Then she begins to sign. I have eight copies, six with post-it notes explaining to whom they will be given and a few words about each person. I watch as, book after book, she writes to complete strangers personalized messages that are encouraging, specific, and at times stunning in their application. We may be standing on no-frills commercial carpet at Books-a-Million, but this is holy ground.

And, of course, I had her sign a book for us, too.




Finally, because I was on the launch team for The Broken Way, Zondervan’s Tom Dean took our picture together. And then I moved on.

But Ann remained. Hugging, signing books, smiling for photos, being fully present. And listening.

Story after story, she listened. Story after story, she let her heart break. And this is her secret.

Ann doesn’t have a career plan. She has a Redeemer. And she wants everyone else to have Him, too. So, after counting her thousands of gifts, the next step became clear.

Become the gift. Live broken and given, like the bread at the Last Supper. Because Jesus gave thanks, and then He gave — not only the physical bread, but His own body. And from His brokenness, we all receive life.

Tonight, Ann will return home at last — back to the farm and the strong arms of her Farmer, to her seven children and the happy chaos of ordinary family life. Tonight, the USA will elect a new president. And I can’t help but think, with all that’s going on in the world, it’s no coincidence that this invitation to the church comes right now.

To whom much is given, much is required. And we have been given so much in Christ. We have peace in a world full of tribulation. We have light where darkness presses hard. We have hope where fear shouts the loudest.

So let’s be the gift. For such a time as this.



The Broken Way

1 10 2016


I know a teacher probably shouldn’t have favorites.

But the eager light in his eyes. That disarming smile. His quick mind and the way he asked the best questions. His presence in the classroom set a tone that infected everyone in the best way. Including me.

And he was only nine years old.

When he was no longer my student, our paths occasionally crossed, and he always acted as though nothing mattered more in that moment than talking to me and catching up on life.

Brilliant, kind, thoughtful, and extravagantly gifted, he grew up to become an accomplished musician and film editor. An artist with a tender and sensitive soul.

This week I found out that he took his own life.

He was twenty-seven.


I’m sitting in this ache. Thinking of him. Thinking of his parents. Of their loss. He was their only child.

Who can carry grief this heavy?

We are broken. All of us. And we spend much of our time, energy, money, and prayer on trying to get ourselves fixed. We look to doctors, preachers, politicians, plastic surgeons — and yes, even God — begging to be made well, worthy, safe, beautiful.

We spend our lives grasping for wholeness and come away empty handed. But maybe we’re so busy trying to mend away or pretend away our own brokenness, we’re missing the point?

I’m currently reading Ann Voskamp’s new book, The Broken Way, which releases October 25. I signed up to be on her launch team — partly because I love Ann and want to help spread the word about this amazing book, but mostly because I didn’t want to wait until the end of October to get my hands on it. And can we just be real? Helping launch a book by Ann is like helping launch the sun into the morning sky. The book is going to soar, not because a team of advance readers successfully launched it. It’s going to soar, because it is desperately needed truth for right this minute.

Brokenness is crushing people. Broken hearts. Broken minds. Broken bodies. People like my former student — who may look great on the outside, but inside they’re dying. And I’m afraid, in too many cases, the church is distracted by lesser things.


“By this we know love, that He laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.” That’s 1 John 3:16.

And in John 13, after Jesus washes His disciples’ feet, He says, “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

We see this pattern repeated again and again. What Jesus did, we are also called to do. But somewhere along the way, a whole lot of our western-culture theology became about “me.” My comfort. My peace. My purpose. My best life, and I want it now.

Jesus was always only about His Father’s will. He came for one reason. To be broken for us.


“How do you live with your one broken heart?” Ann asks.

And God answers. “You give it away.”

So maybe it’s time to stop grasping for personal wholeness and embrace the truth that the only way others can see His light in me is through the cracks?

Maybe it is only in my brokenness that I am qualified to enter yours?

The Broken Way is the account of what happened when Ann said yes to God’s second dare.

The first dare? To count His One Thousand Gifts — to find Him in everything, and to let her perspective and her whole life be transformed by living fully aware and fully grateful. But gratitude is a beginning, not an end. At the Last Supper, Jesus didn’t stop with giving thanks for the bread. He broke it. And He gave. Then He told his disciples, “Do this in remembrance of Me.”

Do this. Break as I am broken. And your brokenness will be made into abundance.

The second dare? Lay down your one life — the handful of moments granted you — and pour them out as an offering to Him.


This book is a masterpiece painted with words — a stunning depiction of the upside-down, sacramental life my soul craves when I let the Spirit speak louder than the magazine headlines. I’m only four chapters in, and it has already spoken to the deeps in seismic fashion. Don’t be surprised if I have a lot more to say about it in the days ahead, but meanwhile, you can learn more and pre-order at

How will you live with your one broken heart?

There’s a way to fullness of meaning, fullness of purpose, and fullness of joy. It’s the way Christ chose for Himself and the one He beckons us to follow.

Here’s my hand. Let’s go together.



It’s time to play

14 11 2014


“We can all see God in exceptional things, but it requires the culture of spiritual discipline to see God in every detail. Never allow that the haphazard is anything less than God’s appointed order, and be ready to discover the Divine designs anywhere.” ~ Oswald Chambers

Laura Boggess’ book, Playdates with God, is an invitation to practice God’s presence. To “discover the Diving designs anywhere.” To understand that every moment is sacred, and to joyfully search for God in them all.

Like a gentle caress, it hushes those persistent longings for significance we all have and softly beckons to come and find the beauty in being small.  It’s a call to remember. To become as a child. To skip into the kingdom, masks off — comparisons, competition, and personal agendas laid down.




I love it when I meet myself on the pages of a book. When entering an author’s experience is like finding a category for my own. When someone else’s words explain me.

I met myself all over this book. It was as though Laura had watched the movie of my life and graciously wrapped her beautiful words around many things God has been patiently and persistently teaching and un-teaching me. Time and again, memories surfaced to be viewed through the lens of God’s sovereign goodness and faithfulness. Time and again, I felt the wonder of it and whispered my grateful awe.

No matter how old we get, play is important, because play is acting out story, and truth is best understood through story. Laura explores this concept in great depth, reminding us to let the gospel lead our internal narrative. When we find ourselves in a season of suffering, we endure and press on, because we trust the end of the story — an ending already written with perfect love. How many times has God proved this to be true in my life? I’ve long ago lost count.


What Oswald Chambers calls “the culture of spiritual discipline,” Laura calls playdates with God. The more we practice this spiritual discipline of seeing God in every detail, the more time slows down and we truly live. We enter the moments of our own lives, consciously receiving His many gifts, and all of life becomes a delightful adventure with God.

I was a child in the 60s, long before cell phones and the internet and so much paralyzing fear, when little ones traipsed unattended to a neighbor’s house. I was so tiny I had to reach up to ring the doorbell. And then came the breathless wait. Would anyone be home? Would someone want to come out to play?

Jesus said, “Behold, I stand at the door and I knock.”

Tiny once again, I fling the door wide.

Yes, Lord. I’m here. And all my time is yours.

Let’s play.


You can purchase a copy (or ten) of Laura’s wonderful book here, or anywhere fine literature is sold. Don’t leave Jesus standing at the door, friends. It’s time to play.



Border Crossing

8 07 2014




This wasn’t part of my plan.

Once upon a time, if God had asked my opinion on the course my life should take, I would have suggested that He reveal His love to the world by making me a shining example of favor and grace. My marriage would be so happy, my children so beautiful and brilliant, and all of our endeavors so very successful, everyone who beheld our awesomeness would line up to follow Jesus.




But God didn’t ask my opinion. On the contrary, every day ordained for me was written in His book before I was born to have or give an opinion. Every day written with divine purpose and with perfect love.

And so, my life unfolds as written, and the day came when the page turned, and He took my hand and led me into a world I never would have chosen to enter.

The world of the disabled. Of hospitals and nurses and therapists and wheelchairs. Of dire predictions and long sleepless nights and a thousand questions echoing into the dark unknown.

The world of those who know they are broken.



Maybe you’ve heard the story — how a good shepherd loves a wayward lamb enough to break her legs, carrying her on his shoulders rather than leaving her to perish in her foolish wanderings. The brokenness is her gift. Her salvation.

This is my story. And it has become beautiful to me. To be broken and carried, emptied and filled, to gladly give what I cannot keep to gain what I cannot lose.

And the pages turn, and we board a plane, and we land in a place where my smallness is magnified. I know that I know that I am not sufficient for these things, and this is my joy.




Because God meets us on the pages of our stories. Meets us in our limping weakness and sweeps us up in His magnificent strength, taking us where we never imagined we would go. We wheel suitcases full of hope across borders where x-ray machines are out of order and guards just happen to be on break. We declare good news to a people whose language we can’t speak, and we are heard and understood. We dance with them, dine with them, laugh and cry with them. We look into the eyes of women whose homes and culture and daily lives are worlds apart from our own, and we see a family likeness. Light shines in darkness. He is here. The Lover of their souls. The Writer of their stories. The One who makes all things new.




I spent two weeks in Central Asia, carried by the Good Shepherd. To those who prayed, thank you with all my heart. God answered. The ripples continue. I’m bowed low with the wonder of it all.

Once upon a time, if God had asked my opinion on the course my life should take, I would have suggested that He reveal His love to the world by making me a shining example of favor and grace. Now I understand that’s exactly what He has done.

Stories to come.



We believe

29 05 2014


IMG_1179We believe in a God enthroned, who calls the stars by name,
and sees when a sparrow falls.

We believe in a God who was and is and is to come — the eternally present,
who created time and reigns above and in it.

We believe in a God who does all things well, whether He gives or takes away,
never changing in His love, His holiness, and His goodness.

We believe in a God who always acts in accordance with faithful plans formed long ago.

No one can hinder Him.

No one can find fault with Him.

No one can cause one word He has spoken to fail.

IMG_0957And so we go.

And so we speak.

And so we dance.

We laugh and cry.

We listen and embrace.

imageWe believe the cross is the measure of God’s love,
and the price of a redemption meant for the ends of the earth.
Who are we to keep it to ourselves?

And so we go.

Small, we go,
our comfort in knowing that
the weak confound the mighty,
the meek inherit the earth,
and the pure in heart see God.

IMG_1771compWe go in the confidence that we are sent.

And the rest
belongs to Him.

* * *

Dear friends,

On June 16, I’m returning to Kazakhstan. Lord willing, I’ll be gone for two weeks and will speak seven times to three different groups.

Like last summer, I will share our story and God’s grace with moms of disabled young adults.

Like last summer, I’ll encourage them to look for the beauty in the gifts God has chosen for them, teach them a dance they will perform for their children, and lead them in morning exercises on the beach.

And like last summer, I’m bowed low with the sense of my utter insufficiency for these things. But I’m also filled with hope. Because I’ve been before, and I’ve seen God come, seen Him move, seen Him lift heavy hearts and strengthen weak knees.

Unlike last year, we’ll be traveling into Kyrgyzstan to speak to parents of children with Down Syndrome. And we’re also planning a reunion with the moms who attended last year’s conference.

So, I’m asking you to pray — no, I’m begging you to please pray for me and for our team — that our good and gracious God will provide safety in travel, good health and stamina, sensitivity to His Spirit, anointing, favor with local authorities, open hearts, and — above all — that the plans He has ordained will be fully accomplished, according to His power at work within us, and for the glory of His Name.

And, friends? If you (or someone you know) might be interested in financially helping these moms or their precious children attend camp, you can give online through Orphanos. Simply click this link, then scroll down the page, select “Partners in Asia” and, from the drop down menu, “Kazakhstan Young Life” (as indicated on the screen shot below).

Screen Shot 2014-05-29 at 1.46.34 PM

I know there are thousands of beautiful ministries out there deserving of your support, and we all have to ask God to lead us in our giving, so please don’t feel any pressure here. But if you know of someone whose heart is especially inclined toward serving the special needs community or declaring good news in Central Asia, please share this opportunity. $250 sends one mom or special friend to camp. Gifts in any amount are deeply appreciated. Thank you!


We believe.
We really do.
And our hearts burst into singing.


What if we really believed the truth?

2 05 2014

DSC_0055Jennifer’s printable graphic and the brochure for Christ EPC’s Women’s retreat

Sometimes a book comes along that lines up perfectly with what God has been whispering to your soul. In fact, you almost wonder if the author spied on your innermost thoughts, took notes, and then transcribed them to the page. But she didn’t. What she did do was allow God to search her own heart and reveal the idols holding her captive. She believed His promise of something better, took the keys He offered to unlock her cage, and walked free.

She could have stopped there, reveling in sweet deliverance. She could have pretended those idols never existed, because who wants to admit sin and selfishness? But she knew there were lots of other people locked in the same cage, and God had showed her the way out. So she swallowed her pride, gathered her courage, and stepped bravely into the light.

That’s how Love Idol was born.


If you struggle with a constant need for approval, then please read Jennifer Lee’s wonderful, honest, liberating book. Read it, and believe what God has declared about you. Because the truth is, we really are pre-approved by God. We’re adopted, cherished, known, and loved — His works of art created for His pleasure and glory.

But that’s not all. We’re also called to serve and build each other up in love, and as long as we’re spending all our time and energy trying to build ourselves up by feeding an insatiable desire for other people’s approval, we’ll never be free to love others well.

This is the thing God has been laying on my heart over the past few months. And now Jennifer’s new book has landed on it all like a big, fat exclamation mark.

Here’s the deal. The best way I know to learn something is to try to teach it to someone else. And apparently God really wanted to teach me about this, because I was asked not once but twice to speak at women’s retreats this spring on the topic of women nurturing other women — to examine and expose what hinders us from really loving Christ and each other well.

The remainder of this post contains photos I took during one of the retreats and edited excerpts from my speaking notes. I share them here in honor of Jennifer’s excellent book (which you should read and believe), and in gratitude for the way God reinforces His beautiful truths again and again.




2 Corinthians 4:7 says, “We have this treasure in earthen vessels.” Only problem is, our treasure gets buried under layers of junk.

We live in two kingdoms. We’re in this world, but not of it. We’re citizens of earth, but we’re called to live here as citizens of God’s upside-down kingdom, and the two operate on opposing principles and laws. We may know what God’s Word says about us — that we’re created in His image, covered by the shadow of His wing, held in the palm of His hand, fearfully and wonderfully made, and chosen in Him before the foundation of the world — but thanks to mass media, we’re constantly bombarded with the world’s ideas about what our life should look like.

Think about the headlines on the magazines in the grocery store check-out line. What are some of the messages our culture sends to a woman? She should be thin, young-looking, rich, powerful, in charge of her life, pretty, fashionable, well-educated, independent, equal to men, sexy, sexually uninhibited, reproductively free, economically productive, athletic, confident, assertive, and free to pursue her dreams no matter what they are.

And there are plenty of industries and businesses determined to make sure we buy into those messages, including plastic surgery, diet products, clothing, make-up, jewelry, home decor, automobiles, fitness products, organic foods, etc.

Are all these things bad? No. Can any of these things become a distraction or, worse yet, an idol? Yes.

God always looks at the heart. If we’re motivated by culturally dictated lifestyle goals, we’ll be much too busy trying to achieve them to pursue the kingdom of God. We need to recognize that our culture is selling us lies. Even though many of these things are not necessarily sinful, none of them will bring peace, satisfaction, or purpose.




But culture isn’t the only culprit. And here’s where it gets personal. Our treasure is also hidden behind the masks we wear. Consider these questions:

Do you have secret sins or habits that you hide from your Christian friends?
Do you feel like those friends would no longer like or respect you if they found out about your secrets?
Do you struggle with guilt, shame, or embarrassment over things you did or that were done to you in the past?
Do you ever feel like you’re the only person you know who can’t seem to get victory in your particular battle?
When people ask you how you’re doing, do you lie because you don’t want them to know what’s really going on in your life or relationships?
Do you feel like most of the other people at your church have their lives all put together and only yours is a mess?

If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, the first thing you need to understand is that you’re not alone. In fact, I think it’s safe to say the majority of Christians struggle with one or more of these things on some level. We wear masks, because we don’t want people to know how broken we are, and yet the church is the very place where we’re supposed to be real with each other.

Galatians 6:2 says, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” And what is the “law of Christ”? Simply this: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And here’s the problem with all this hiding behind masks. The only way we can love well is if we bear one another’s burdens, and the only way we can bear them is if we know what they are.




Our treasure is also buried under selfish ambition and competition. The pursuit of personal success is a birthright in the western world. Parents push their children to excel, telling them they can be anything they want to be if they’ll only work hard (or, in some cases, cheat well or kiss up to the right people). It’s unrealistic and sets people up for disappointment rather than encouraging them to actually discover their real abilities and find contentment in pursuing them.

If we embrace the law of the upside-down kingdom, instead of selfish ambition, we’ll pursue compassionate service. Instead of competition, collaboration. Consider others as more important than ourselves. Work together for the good of all. These values are all over scripture, but they’re sadly lacking in way too many Christian homes and churches. Lots of people want to do “great things” for God, but few want to handle the messier, hidden tasks — to love the unlovable, to listen to the lonely, and to serve the least.

Compassion is the law of the upside-down kingdom, and when it’s real, it’s knocks the teeth out of selfish ambition. Collaboration is the law of the upside-down kingdom, and when the body functions as a body, the work of the kingdom is accomplished. But when we’re all competing for the spotlight, nothing of eternal value gets done.

Selfish ambition can be tough to spot in ourselves, but a good diagnostic is the presence of jealousy. If I feel envious or jealous of another person’s role in the body, chances are good I need to ask God to replace competition with compassion for those He desires to love through me, and to replace envy with intercession for those He has placed on the front lines of ministry.

And then there’s comparison.

Comparison either says God short-changed me or God short-changed you, and neither of those is the truth. God created women in all shapes and sizes with all sorts of personalities and talents, and in every single case, He knit them in their mothers’ wombs and knows their thoughts and numbers their days. In every case, He looks not at the external things but at the heart.

Comparison by its nature takes our eyes off of Jesus and puts them on each other, not for the purpose of loving and serving, or learning and imitating, but for the purpose of elevating or demeaning. As long as we’re measuring others and striving to measure up ourselves, we’ll never love well. But when we ask God to open our eyes to the beauty of diversity, and we choose to look for His creativity in others instead of comparing ourselves to them, we’ll be free to embrace our own gifts and purposes and to celebrate His glorious design for others. And what’s more, when we learn to see as He sees, we’ll start looking beyond the externals to the heart, and we’ll realize that, in the things that matter most, we’re more alike than we ever imagined.




One more layer of junk burying our treasure is entitlement. This, too, is rampant in our culture. It’s all about standing up for our rights. It’s the spirit of entitlement that makes us furious when someone cuts us off in traffic, or when someone else receives the promotion we felt should have been ours, or pretty much any time we mutter under our breath, “How dare you!” Entitlement is so much a part of our society, we may think it’s a good thing. It may sound like fairness or justice, but what we really mean is, “Fair is when I get what I think I deserve, and justice is when you aren’t allowed to get in my way.”

And the cure? Well, this one is actually the biggie. It’s the ultimate cure for all of these diseases. The cure to entitlement is remembering what we really deserve — death and separation from a holy God — and that Christ took our place on the cross. The cure for entitlement is dying to ourselves, our rights, and our expectations. It’s knowing we’ve been bought with a price, and we are not our own — that we’ve received mercy instead of justice and grace upon grace.

The cure to entitlement is taking our eyes off of ourselves entirely and setting our minds on Christ and His kingdom. We have no right to ask for anything, and yet we’ve been given eternal life with God and untold blessings this side of heaven.

DSC_0068The beautiful women of Christ EPC with Jennifer’s “PreApproved” Graphic,
because it fit so perfectly with our theme.

The more we die to ourselves, the more we live to God, and the more we live to God, the more joy, peace, satisfaction, and true contentment we find. Yes, it’s upside-down. And it’s glorious. God pre-approves sinners. He adopts rebels. He redeems us while we’re His enemies and renames us His friends. And He gives us the beautiful gift of genuine friendship with each other — a gift we miss all too often because we can’t get our eyes off the mirror.

So, what if we really believed the truth? That we’re loved? That we matter? That no one else can fill the shoes He created just for us to fill?

What if we smashed our idols, and walked out of our prisons, and made it our one aim to love Christ and each other well?

We’d turn the world upside-down. And I can’t think of a single thing the world needs more than that.

The Warmth of Redemption’s Embrace

15 04 2014

IMG_3712When we made the decision to move to Dallas and buy a house across the street from the one where I grew up — the house where my dad was slowly losing my mom to dementia memory by memory, and where our son and his wife and their baby were also living, helping Dad navigate this heart-breaking journey — I wanted a visual representation of the season we were about to enter. Four generations living in close community, the old fading away even as the new blossomed, all inextricably connected by blood and God’s eternal purposes.

I wanted to anchor this moment in imagery, so I commissioned a painting from my friend, Emily Wierenga. A single branch extending through four seasons, with white winged birds blowing through it all like the breath of God.

Emily more than met the challenge. Using color, texture, and abstract form, she painted meaning, and it’s no surprise to me that she writes the same way. When Abingdon Press asked her to write a book about a quilt, the story’s structure itself became a patchwork — the past and the present intentionally interspersed, each piece a collage of characters and themes beautifully interwoven.


I read the first half of A Promise in Pieces on an airplane flying to Detroit to speak at a women’s retreat, and I finished it on the flight home. As I closed the final page, I couldn’t help thinking of an illustration I’d used at the retreat:

If you drop a pebble in water, ripples are set in motion. But let’s say it’s not a pebble. Let’s say it’s a priceless jewel. Something you dearly love. Something irreplaceable. You’ve spent your life trying to protect it, and now, due to circumstances beyond your control, it’s gone. You stare in disbelief at the spot where it went down, a multitude of “if only’s” swirling in your head. You wish you could press rewind or wake up and realize it’s all just a horrible nightmare, but you can’t, and it isn’t.

At this point, you have a choice. You can keep staring at the spot where your treasure sank, or you can watch the ripples to see what God is doing.

Because He is always doing something beautiful. And your story? The one that feels like it just went desperately wrong? It’s not just yours. Your story intersects my story and a thousand other stories. The ripples set in motion in our lives touch other lives, and more ripples are set in motion. We’re not autonomous. We are members of one another, and all of our individual stories are part of God’s greater story. The story in which God redeems all that is broken.

A Promise in Pieces is a story about brokenness and redemption. It’s a patchwork of stories within a story within a story, all of it revolving around a quilt that has a life of its own, each of its squares a promise to someone whose story has been woven into the life fabric of one woman, a World War II army nurse named Clara.

It’s a book about what it means to be human — the search for significance and acceptance and love, and the fears and misunderstandings that often drive us to run from the very things we so desperately desire. It’s about loss and healing, frailty and forgiveness — the way life intersects life, and meaning finds us right where we are, especially when we’re searching for it somewhere else.

It’s light set against darkness, hope against despair, and the remarkable truth that God takes these contrasts and stitches them together into beauty, all of this told in the words of an artist — words that paint mental pictures: “seagulls dipping down and rising like washerwomen, pinning up the waves” and “the breeze lifted their hair and the edges of their spirits” and “I stepped off the train and fell into the arms of home.”

Emily has deftly pieced together loneliness and love, war and peace, life and death, and running through it all is one shining thread. God’s grace.

To read A Promise in Pieces is to be wrapped in the warmth of redemption’s embrace.

Maybe your life should intersect Clara’s, too?


* * *

You can purchase A Promise in Pieces here, or at any major book outlet, or visit Emily’s webpage to learn more.






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